


Pictures of you

by podcastalien



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Eddie’s engaged to Myra, Fluff, M/M, Slow Burn (kinda), Then meets Richie, wedding photographer au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-07-02 14:12:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15798177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/podcastalien/pseuds/podcastalien
Summary: Eddie Kaspbrak proposed to his girlfriend Myra with the knowledge that planning a wedding is in the top five most stressful life events. But people were starting to ask questions, especially Myra. They’d been dating for almost six years after all; this was “The next step for their love” as Myra put it. And so, with his inhaler in one hand and a small velvet box in the other, Eddie popped the question. That was nearly six months ago. With only two to go, Eddie is getting more and more frantic by the day. The majority of the wedding has been planned, but Eddie can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t right. Then, their photographer drops out of the wedding and Myra demands that he find a new one as soon as possible. That’s how Eddie meets Richie Tozier, the freelance photographer with a smart mouth and a captivating aura. As the big day approaches, Eddie finds himself more anxious at the thought of his impending marriage, as well as more wrapped up in his photographer’s humor and energy. Richie helps him understand why, among other things. (The groom x wedding photographer AU no one asked for.)





	1. Eddie Kaspbrak needs a photographer

Eddie climbed the stairs to his apartment with dread weighing heavy on his body, that and the water that soaked his clothes. It had been a long day of driving and dealing with passengers, all while trying to navigate New York City through the rain. 

 

Getting his limo app service off the ground proved to be great for business, but not so great for his sanity. On the way to pick to one of his ever so gracious customers, he’d been rear ended by some asshole going 50 in an area with a speed limit of 30. He couldn’t slow down fast enough for a red light and ended up hitting Eddie’s limo. Eddie had jolted forward, his chest hitting the steering wheel. His breathing became short and rapid as his heart raced, the signs of an oncoming Asthma attack. He reached for his inhaler in the glove compartment and pulled on the trigger with a shaking hand. He was so stunned for a minute or so, he couldn’t get out of the car. Until the man who had hit him came out of his car; shouting and banging on Eddie’s window, saying he should’ve seen him coming. 

 

As ridiculous as that accusation was, the man was reasonable enough to exchange his information with Eddie. The incident hadn’t caused any lethal damage, but the bumper of the limo was now wonky and dented. It wasn’t too terrible, but appearance is very important in his business.  _Presentation is important in every aspect of life,_ his mother had often told him. 

 

Eddie had it hauled away to the nearest auto shop and opted to walk home in the rain rather than give his money to one of those big cooperate car apps. He was too prideful for that, if nothing else. 

 

He scaled the final step, a little bit winded, and pushed the key into the door of his apartment. It’s not too small. The realtor had described it as, “Cozy for a couple.” But the shades of paint and furniture they’d picked out for the space made Eddie feel like he was being suffocated. He took in his surroundings with a small sigh. Despite its comfy couches and cabinets filled with his clothes and belongings, Eddie always had to make some what of a mental effort to establish it as his home. Slipping off his shoes and shaking his jacket off, he heard the faint sound of weeping coming from the living room. Softly, he tip toed over and ducked his head into the room, 

“Myra?” He asked with caution. 

 

“Oh Eddie!” She jumped to her feet, voice screeching in it’s high pitch, “thank god!” 

 

She wrapped herself around Eddie in a death grip that would rival that of cobra’s. His hands sat at his side stiffly before his better judgment kicked in and he moved them to rub circles on her back. She untangled herself from him after a moment, “Where were you and why weren’t you answering your phone?” Her was voice demanding and whiny, Eddie cringed at the sound. 

 

“You know I can’t have your notifications on while I drive, sweetie. It’s bad for business.” 

This only caused Myra to pout more, “You’re supposed to pull over to text me every hour Eddie! We talked about this!”

“Yes,” he mumbles, “but-“ 

 

“No, Eddie!” he didn’t think her voice could get any louder, “I could’ve had heart attack! I thought you might’ve died! And there was an emergency!” 

 

Eddie’s heart stopped how the fuck does she know already? _Oh Christ almighty, she’s not going to let you go anywhere now. Good fuckin goin, Kasp-_

 

“Eddie!” Myra ran back over to him again, wrapping a large arm around him, “I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean to scare you! Where’s your inhaler?” 

 

Eddie hadn’t even noticed that his breathing had become heavy while his brain was spiraling. She reached a hand into his pocket and fished out his inhaler, holding it to his lips. Eddie took a puff, as his fiancé continued rambling on. “I should’ve known not to use that word with you, I know how delicate you are. But it really was, something really bad happened.” 

 

“Is that why you were crying?” Eddie asked, knowing his fiancé has the tendency for the  dramatics. He can never gauge how serious the problem is just from her reaction. She nodded, “Oh Eddie, it’s so horrible! I could cry even more!” 

 

“No!” His shouted a little too quickly, “No, just tell me what happened, Marty.” 

 

“I got a call from the photographer.” 

 

“And?” 

 

Eddie could see that she’s starting to tear up again, but she blurts out the words before they can fall. “They pulled out of the wedding! They said they had something else booked that day. I don’t know how that’s even possible! We scheduled this months ago!” She exclaimed, hugging Eddie tightly again and crying into his shoulder. He let her sob for a while before attempting to reason with her, 

“I know. It’s okay, hey, it’s alright. We can get a new one, they are plenty in the city.” 

 

“That’s no excuse! They should’ve had it together! And where are we going to find a photographer that will work on such short notice? Oh it’s all falling apart, Eddie! This is a disaster!” She shouted, too close to Eddie’s ear. 

 

“No! Hey,” he met her eyes, red and puffy from crying, “We’ll find one, I promise. We can go and look tomorrow.” 

 

“Eddie! I have a dress fitting tomorrow!” 

 

“Alright, Myra calm down. I will go and look tomorrow, I can’t drive the limo anyway.” 

 

Shit. 

 

“What’s wrong with the limo?” 

 

“Oh just needs an oil change and some other tune ups you know. I gotta give the riders the best treatment, right?” He felt bad for lying, but he would feel worse telling her the truth. She worries. And he worries about what will happen to him if she worries any more than she already does. 

 

She nodded into his shoulder. 

 

“Okay, why don’t you go to bed and I’ll meet you there?” 

 

“I love you, Eddie-bear,” she mumbled gently.

 

Eddie doesn’t think about his response, he learned not to long ago. 

 

“I love you too, Marty.” 

 

Myra releases him and walks over to their bedroom, shutting the door behind her. 

 

Eddie sighs deeply once she is out of sight, running his hands over his eyes. He lets the oxygen reach his whole body before plopping down on the couch, defeatedly. 

He just sits exhausted there for a while, before rising and walking to the bathroom to shower. He lets the warm water comfort him and lets it run maybe a bit too long as he stands underneath it. 

 

He exits the shower and heads for the medicine cabinet. He finds the melatonin, (among a heap of other things) and pops a few into his mouth. The stress of planing a wedding had been taking its toll on his sleep.  Ever since the night of the engagement, Eddie hadn’t gotten a full night of rest. Even in times of relative calm, restlessness plagued him as he tossed and turned in his bed. Tonight was no different. 

 

He lets his eyes find his future wife taking up more than her side in bed, and crawls in warily beside her. He stared up at the ceiling a long while, thinking about everything and nothing. 

 

He is woken up several times during the night, not to his surprise. 

 

- 

 

Eddie wakes up the next morning to find a note on the kitchen table, 

Off to the fitting! Only 62 more days! Love you! -Myra

 

That number sat heavy in his chest as he made himself coffee and opened his laptop to begin looking for a new photographer. The first page on google was companies with enough money to afford to put ads there. He figured they’d all be booked and when he calls, that suspicion is confirmed. One man even laughs into the phone obnoxiously when Eddie tells him the date of the wedding. 

 

That’s how he spends majority of the morning, hunched over his laptop as concern pulls on the lines of his face.  

He nearly pulls all his hair out while on the phone with countless photography studios. All booked that day. 

 

He’s on the fourth page of google, sporting a defeated expression when something finally takes.

 

Richie Tozier Photography. 

 

There’s a number on the website header and Eddie calls without a second thought, not expecting much. 

 

It rings twice before someone, groggy sounding, picks up. 

“Hello?” A scratchy voice asks. 

 

Eddie isn’t sure he’s got the right guy. 

 

“Um Hi, I might have the wrong number is this Richie Tozier?” 

 

“As you live and breathe,” the voice, Richie apparently, answered. Skeptical, he attempted to clarify, “The photographer?” 

“Yeah huh,” He responded causally. 

A bit too casually for Eddie’s liking. But he didn’t have a whole lot of options at this point. Fuck it, he thought, this might be all there is. The guy’s just gotta show up and take pictures right? 

 

With a sharp inhale Eddie asks, 

“Do you have any availability June 5th? I know it’s pretty soon.” 

 

The other line hummed for a moment, “What’s the occasion?” 

 

“My wedding.” 

 

“Damn. Guess you’re not a planner then huh.”

 

“Excuse me I’ll have you kn-“

 

The voice chuckled, “I’m just messing with you, man. What’s your name?” 

 

“Eddie Kaspbrak,” 

 

He hummed again, “Well, I might have somethin open just for you Eds.”

 

“That’s not my na-“ 

 

“Do you have a venue?”

 

Eddie scoffed, frankly sort of offended “Well, yeah of course,”

 

“Can you text me the address?”

 

“Yes bu-“

 

The man on the phone clicked his tongue, “Mkay, cool. See if you can schedule something there so we can meet and I can check out the lighting and stuff.” 

 

Eddie was a little dumbfounded at the gall this “Richie” seemed to have.

 

“Um, okay,” 

 

“Alright, see ya around then, Eddie spaghetti,” and before he could say anything about the nickname, he heard the phone click ending the call.  

 

Eddie sat in the wake of the phone call, a little disoriented to say the least. His laptop still had Richie’s website open and there was tab labeled “portfolio” on the top of the page. He clicked it reluctantly.

 

It was a layout of three pictures per row, and there were several rows. It was similar to a Instagram feed, you could click on each picture to enlarge it and scroll. The first picture struck him: it was a girl with short red curls laying in a field, one hand across her chest and her eyes closed. She had a flower tucked on her ear, a white carnation, complementing a splattering of reddish freckles on her face. The golden light of the sunset behind her highlighted her long, reddish brown lashes. She looked beautiful. 

 

Eddie scrolled to see more.

 

A boy, muscular and tall, sitting inside a coffee shop, the picture being taken outside of it. It struck Eddie as a little weird if the photographer didn’t know this guy, but it was an amazing photo none the less. The background seemed faded as the man stared straight ahead out the window. The photo caught light of the man’s eyes, he was clearly pondering something as he peered longingly at something unseen to everyone but himself. 

 

He scrolled through several more of the photos, more featuring those two subjects. There were a few that looked to be graduation parties or other gatherings of the sort, but no weddings. That made him a little anxious, but clearly this Richie guy had some skill with the camera. 

 

He was intrigued if nothing else.  


	2. Richie Tozier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie meets a weird photographer

The hotel grounds Myra and Eddie had booked for the wedding was open. Eddie texts Richie when and where to meet him in a painstakingly formal manner. Richie responds with a, “Cool thanks”. 

 

Eddie takes his non work car the short distance to the hotel.   


 

-

The lobby was playing soft jazz music as Eddie sat by the door, he was early. The lobby had big chairs and cushion padded walls and orchids seemingly everywhere.

 He wasn’t all that keen on the inside of the hotel, it was a little too extravagant for his tastes, (that and the bill). But, Myra had loved it and as Eddie had often heard, 

 

“A happy wife is a happy life.” 

 

He hoped that turned out to be true. 

 

The double doors opened and a man that can only be described as striking walked towards him with a funny buzz about him and a large camera, in a bag, around his neck. Eddie wasn’t really paying attention to the camera.

 

The man had a mass of dark curls, thick and relaxed, atop his head. His hair went just below his ear, he tucked a piece behind it with fingers covered in rings, eclectic in color and style. His blue eye were framed by thick glasses that probably hadn’t been cleaned since they were made. The man, _Richie,_ he reminded himself, was clad in dark jeans and a blue Hawaiian style shirt over a plain white one. The look was completed with a pair of beat up black converse. 

 

Eddie felt his stomach drop and a clump forming in his throat.  

 

He could hear something faint, a blurry jumble of words coming from the other man.

 

“Eddie?” 

 

He focused in, ripped out of his trance, jumping to answer, 

 

“Hi,”  he greeted with his face burning. 

 

“You’re early, I was hoping to beat you here. Get some shots of the local flavor.” He motioned over at the older man working the concierge desk. 

 

“What?” Was the only thing Eddie’s brain, on overdrive could seem to come up with. 

 

Richie looked back at him and laughed as he held out his hand. 

 

“I’m Richie, we talked on the phone.” 

 

Eddie’s eyes found his shoes on the floor and coughed, trying to gather himself. 

 

He shook the other man’s hand, a little too quickly “Eddie,” he stated. 

 

He laughed again, a clear and deep laugh, “I know.”  

 

They stood awkwardly for a second, two strangers who were trying to break the threshold into knowingness. 

 

“So Eds, can I get the lay of the land here or what?” 

 

That nickname swapped Eddie’s unacknowledged nerves for something like irritation.  

 

“Didn’t you just say that you know my name is Eddie?”

 

 

He shrugged his broad shoulders, “I’m a nickname guy.” 

 

“So, show me around and I’ll take some test shots and we can talk about stuff.”

 

“Stuff?” Eddie asked, again a little shocked by the man’s laid back nature. 

 

“Stuff.” He responded nodding his head. 

 

Eddie led the way to the hall he was to be married in. 

 

-

 

It was trip up a flight of immaculate stairs, large spiral railings with intricate designs. 

 

Eddie was a little out of breath by the time he was half way up. Well, maybe that’s an understatement.  He was gasping and coughing hard. 

 

He’d been walking behind the photographer, listening to him talk about his background in the art. Eddie had asked just to break the ice, but had gotten an extensive answer so far. 

 

While he was taking, Eddie’s mind had pictured Myra standing at the top of those stairs. Her hair pulled into a mountain of curls restrained by a white veil. He is standing beside her, holding her hand, in a tux, looking into the distance. He tries to repress the slight cringe that escapes him. But that’s not what causes his breath to hitch and then stagger. 

 

He looks over at Richie who’s totally lost in his story, a bit ahead of him on the stairs,  and catches sight of his backside without meaning to. He feels something rise in his stomach and tingle as he gulps. He looks back over to the top of the stairs where Myra is (isn’t) and an angry scowl wipes across her face. She takes her hand and wraps it around Eddie’s wrist, tightening her grip. He sees himself jump in pain. 

 

And suddenly he’s aware that this is going to happen. Really happen. He’s going to stand atop those stairs and be married to his wife. 

 

He starts to wheeze heavily.

 

“Shit man! You alright?” He sees Richie rush over to his side. All Eddie can do is point to his front pocket as he hits his chest. He feels him reach and pull out his inhaler. Richie held it out to him and Eddie puffed. 

 

“Sorry,” he coughed, “asthma.” 

 

“Don’t worry about it, there _are_ other ways to tell me I’m breath taking”. 

 

Eddie could feel himself blushing, but his instincts bit back “You wish.” 

 

He laughed, this time more airy and high “Ooh, feisty are we?” He asked as they climbed the final step. “Your fiancé is a lucky...” and then he paused. It took Eddie a

second to realize the implication as the man gave him a once over with his eyes. 

 

“Woman,” he blurted out with burning cheeks. 

He saw that the other man’s were red too, the first time he’d seen him come off as embarrassed. But of course, he laughed, 

“I never assume and I don’t judge, I have no place to. It wouldn’t be a problem if you were-“ 

 

“I’m not,” he said, his voice cracking in the middle. 

 

“Okie dokie. Sorry I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. My friend Bev says I “just really don’t know when to close my mouth.” He put air quotes around her words. 

 

“She sounds smart,” Eddie quipped.

 

Richie laughed and slapped a hand, big with long spindly fingers, on his back,  “She is! You catch on fast don’t you?” 

 

Eddie jumped at the motion, “I do,” he said. 

 

“So tell me about this girl of yours,” he said as he walked further down, approaching the dance and reception area. 

 

-

 

“Myra,” he said as they entered the reception hall, extravagant as the rest of the place with marble floors and large chandeliers. 

 

 

“That’s pretty,” he said, pulling the camera out of its case, “is she?” 

 

Eddie scoffed, “She’s my girlfriend.”

 

“Sooooo?”

 

“Yeah! Of course she’s pretty!” 

 

“You over your skis then?” He pulled the camera up to his eye and faced him. 

 

Eddie scratched the back of his head, “I don’t think so.”

 

“Yeah. You couldn’t be.” 

 

And the camera made a clicking noise. 

“Smile next time, mate,” he said in a shitty accent. Eddie tried to suppress whatever it was that was causing him to blush. 

 

“Was that supposed to be British?” He asked. 

 

“Australian, but thanks for playing.”

 

“Good thing you’re a photographer and not an actor.” 

 

“Oh, Eddie spaghetti, I am a man of many hats.” 

 

He looked up at the taller man, “And master of none.”  

 

“That hurts, spaghetti man.”

 

“I told you it’s just Eddie.” 

 

Richie clicked his camera button again. 

“Got it. Edward Spaghetward, leave the sauce.” 

 

He walked back out into the hall and Eddie paused before following him. He led them to the room where they would say their vows. 

-

 

It was nice; bay windows and a long walk way for Myra to walk down. It would be decorated with a flowered arch where he and Myra would stand before the minister. 

 

“This is nice,” he said. 

 

Eddie sighed, “yeah.” 

 

“You don’t like it?” 

 

“Of course I do. I’m  just,” he paused, waiting for himself to autocomplete the sentence.

_Tired, stressed, nervous._ But he didn’t say any of that, he let it hang in the air until Richie broke it. 

 

“I get it. Ol’ wife’s gonna crash your bachelor lifestyle and cut off your balls. You don’t want to be chained down.” 

 

Eddie made a disgusted noise in his throat, “That’s so fucking vulgar, man.” 

 

Richie laughed, “Hey I’m not the one doing it and you never said it wasn’t true.” 

 

“It’s not!” He shouted defensively. 

“And I’m a millionaire,” Richie responded and walked, for lack of a better term, down the aisle. 

 

He stopped toward the end and turned around. “Tell me more about her.” 

 

“What do you want to know?” 

“Anything you can think of. Don’t be shy, gimme all the dirty details.” 

 

He rolled his eyes, “gross, man. Why would I tell that to a stranger?”

 

“First of all,” he stated, “I’m offended that you think we’re strangers. Secondly, it’s a photography trick.” 

 

“What is?” 

 

Richie brushed his hair out of his eyes and held his camera up to them. “To get someone to smile a real smile, you get them to talk about what they love.”

 

Eddie felt his face get hot as he snapped another photo. 

“Good light in here,” he said looking at the camera screen. 

“Come over here,” Richie ushered to where the arch would be. “Stand here,” he pointed at the ground directly across from him. Right where Myra would be, _all too soon_ , Eddie thought. 

 

“You know,” he said leveling the camera with his eye again, “this is my first wedding.” 

 

Eddie choked, “What?” 

 

“Unbelievable right? Who wouldn’t hire me.” 

 

The camera snapped and clicked again. 

“Ah, that one’s a keepah,” he said in a bad Brooklyn accent. He began walking back out of the room. 

 

Eddie found himself stuck where he was, glued to the floor. His breathing began picking up as he tried to move but his feet didn’t listen. _God not now._ He fell against the wall and slid down, reaching for his inhaler with trembling hands. He held it up to his lips and pulled the trigger with closed eyes.

 

“Fuck!” Richie’s voice from the other room, he could hear him running back in.

 

“Sorry man,” he ran over and Eddie felt strong arms around his shoulders. “I shouldn’t have left you in here, this happened earlier I’m such a dumbass.”

 

“I can,” _gasp_ , “handle myself.” 

 

Richie helped him up, “I know big guy.” 

 

Eddie detached himself from his electric grip, “Don’t patronize me.” 

 

Richie held his hands up, “I didn’t mean to.” 

 

“I’m asthmatic, not a child.” He wiped his pants off. 

 

 “Well I should hope not, you have to be 18 to get hitched.” 

 

Eddie scoffed and walked ahead. 

 

“Aye! Wait up!” Richie shouted after him. He didn’t quite catch up until they were in the lobby. 

 

“Look who’s out of breath now,” Eddie said when he reached the bottom of the stairs. 

 

“You’re not,” _gasp_ , “wrong.” 

 

“I’ll call you again before the wedding so we can work out the logistics,” Eddie said heading for the door. 

 

“Wait!” He shouted. Eddie turned back around and Richie came closer to him. 

“My friend’s bar, tonight, you could use a drink. Tell your wife we’re fighting about finances and you have to go teach me a lesson. I can text you the address, wear something pretty.”  

 

Eddie suppressed excitement at the invitation, “I don’t know, won’t it be a little weird?” 

 

He quirked an eyebrow “Why would it be?” 

 

“I mean who hangs out with their wedding photographer?”  

 

“Someone who desperately needs some alcohol. C’mon I’m buying.” 

 

“I-“ he started. 

 

“Great,” Richie said walking backward toward the door, “you’ll be there.” 

 

“That’s no-“ 

 

There was a loud _bang!_ Richie had ran into the door and hit the floor. Richie cackled which caused Eddie to as well. The concierge made a face at him. 

 

He stood up and turned around, “I’ll see you at 9:00 Eds!”

 

Eddie couldn’t get a word in before the man was out the door. 

 

 


	3. Red’s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eddie meets some friends at a bar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a hot minute! I’ve been hella busy but I’m gonna finish this story because it won’t get out of my head or leave me alone so stick around if ya like. Also bonus points if you can guess what movie I’m referencing in Eddie’s cat’s name.

A warm, if somewhat strange feeling follows Eddie Kaspbrak out the door of the hotel and into his car. A silly, bright buzz in the pads of his fingers as he grips the steering wheel and in the tips of his toes as he presses gently down on the petals. A feeling that follows him all the way up to the door of his  _ shared _ apartment, where it promptly escaped his feet, leaving Eddie winded.

 

The slight drop in your stomach accompanying the sound of the garage door opening, signaling your parents home for the day as a child, is similar to the one Eddie Kaspbrak experienced at the sound of his fiancé fiddling with her key outside their door. In his mind’s eye, he could see her fingers, fast and ungraceful, pawing at her key ring to get to the right one. 

 

The jam and turn into the lock makes Eddie inhale sharply, he shouldn’t be able to hear it but things always seemed louder, ear shattering, when he was in the presence of Myra. 

“Hello, Eddie-bear,” she says, her voice like nails on a chalkboard. 

“Hi Marty,” the smile plastered on out of habit is lost in his thin voice. She waltzes over to where Eddie sits at the kitchen table. Kissing the top of his head lightly before pulling the chair next to his out and plopping herself down on it. She sits thigh to thigh with Eddie, who cringes at the sudden contact. This does not go unnoticed.

“Everything alright dear?” Her eyes seemingly searching for something in his. Maybe reassurance that he couldn’t give her. 

“Fine,” he murmurs. “How’d the dress fitting go?”Eddie would be lying if he said he didn’t know that would derail her. 

“Oh Eddie bear, you’d think with the amount we’re paying these people they’d be able to keep my measurements in order and do a little tailoring correctly. I have to go in again three weeks from now. Don’t they know we have other things to plan?” 

Eddie feels another bag form under his eye at the mere thought of all that was left to be done Catering, finalized guest list, seating and  _ now photography.  _

To her credit, Myra had tried to get these worked out earlier, but Eddie always said that they had time. He hadn’t realized he’d been spacing out when Myra asks “isn’t that ridiculous?” And Eddie nods out of habit.

“How was the photographer?” He perks up at that and a nervous twinge forms in his stomach. “Oh alright,” he coughs,  “He’s a little unconventional, but I think he’ll do a good job.” 

 

“How do you mean?”

Eddie swallows thickly, 

“Well, this is his first wedding,” he stated it as casually as one would the time. 

“Oh my god, Eddie. This can’t be his first wedding he probably has no idea what he’s doing.” She whines, “another conflict on my shoulders. I’m going to have to find someone now because you just can’t do any of this can you?” 

“Myra I don’t think that’s fair I saw some of his work and he-“ 

“Oh don’t tell me what’s not fair, Eddie I’ve been essentially planning this wedding on my own. I’ve done everything you haven’t wanted to do. If I don’t do it it’s not getting done.” 

He felt his breath catch in his throat and his head search for something to say. With every word she said his heart raced faster. Eddie felt like he was hiding in a basement and Myra was slowly making her way down the stairs to reveal him. 

“Can we talk about this later?”

“There’s that again! You always say that! When is  _ later _ , exactly Eddie?” 

“Myra I-“ he gasps. 

 

“ _ It’s like you don’t even want to get married _ .” The comment holds no real weight with Myra. She couldn’t believe that would be a possibility. It’s throw away jab to get some emotion out of her fiancé.

 

It’s not so simple to Eddie. He feels the venom of her words in his veins as she continues to ramble. 

“Stop it,” he mutters. 

“Stop what?” 

“Stop taking like that,” he nearly shouts without meaning to. His voice cracks “I proposed to you because I wanted to get married. Why would I have if I didn’t?” 

“Well would it kill you to be involved then?” 

Eddie can’t answer that mainly because he thinks it might. 

“I-“ he starts with nowhere to finish, landing on 

“-sorry.” He just wants this conversation to be over.

“I just want everything to be perfect. Don’t you?” 

Eddie nods. 

 

They have chicken and rice for dinner. Eddie feels nauseous the whole time. Like bile will spill out from his mouth every time he opens it. But he eats all of it. Myra will say something if he doesn’t. 

 

-

 

Eddie is watching TV with Plato, the cat he and Myra had gotten two years ago. He’s in Eddie’s lap, purring like he does whenever you pat his head. He likes to lick your palm as gratitude for this act, that always makes Myra laugh. Her screechy, high pitched chuckle, but it was better than her cry. Eddie relishes in those moments thinking  _ maybe I can handle this. maybe this isn’t so bad.  _

 

_ But why does it have to be bad at all?  _ But he shakes that off like he always does. 

 

Plato is licking Eddie’s palm when Myra calls Eddie’s name from their room. 

“Eddie-bear!” She exclaims, but there’s no anger or urgency in her voice. Eddie had gotten good at detecting when there was,  _ well he had always been good at that, since he was a kid _ . He sighs, 

“Yes?”

“Can you come in here please?” 

He sighs once more and coaxes Plato off of him, not an easy feat to say the least. Getting to his feet and pulling the blanket off his lap. He stands in the doorway of their bedroom. Poking his head in, he finds Myra walking towards him in a black silk robe.

“What did you need, Marty?”

She doesn’t say anything to him, but enters his space, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into a kiss. Eddie feels her lips, wet and slimy and her tongue like sandpaper against his. He detaches from her mouth to look at her, “Woah,” is all he can say. 

“I know we’re supposed to save it for the honeymoon but I can’t help it, Eddie-bear. I want to show you I love you.” She leads him over to their bed, kissing his neck. Eddie can’t find it in himself to break away like he wants to. All of the sudden he’s being pushed onto the mattress. 

“Myra,” he says breathless, “Myra,” louder, she’s still kissing him, “Myra! Myra! Stop!” Her eyes meet his and Eddie regrets saying anything at all. He doesn’t want to explain himself, he couldn’t even if he did. 

“I really think we should wait.” His breath catches and falters. 

 

She whines, “I can’t anymore Eddie. It’s too long a time. Most couples don’t wait to tie the knot why should we? We’ve been together long enough.”

 

And that’s perfectly logical. And that’s why Eddie feels his throat start to close. Wheezing and coughing. Myra reaches to their bedside table for his inhaler. He sits up and takes a hit from it.

“We-“ he hacks, “can’t.” 

“Eddie it’s not the 1800s anymore. There’s nothing wrong with it.” 

“Isn’t there?” He asks, still trying to muster strength in his lungs. She puts a soft hand on his thigh. “Is this about your asthma?” 

“No,”

“Because we can go slow,” she states and Eddie feels anger boil in his stomach.  _ Maybe she means well.  _ But he still can’t stand to be patronized. 

“No,” he says again, more stern this time. 

“Are you having problems..” 

“ _ No _ !” Eddie didn’t mean to shout.

“Then why, Eddie?” 

His breath caught in his throat, “Because,” his voice breaking, “it’s the right thing to do.” 

There is a pause, he realizes he needs to explain himself. “We are a man and a woman and we are getting married,” he says eyed staying glued to the ground.  “And then we can do,” another somehow loud pause, “the other thing,” he coughs. 

“Because that’s the right thing to do.” 

He finds her eyes again, glassy and wide.

“ _ What about because we love each other _ ?” 

Eddie moves from the bed, scrambling from her curious stare. 

“I think I n-need to go, stay with Bill for the night. I can’t talk about this right now.” Myra had never liked Bill, but that is the least of Eddie’s concern. He shuffles out of the room, grabs his keys from the kitchen counter as well as his phone and wallet. He ignores the cries of his name and the “stop!”s. 

He doesn’t realize until he gets to the parking garage that his hands are shaking and that his is whole body is trembling. 

-

Bill’s apartment isn’t far. Eddie knows he’s more than likely at home, churning out the 30th some chapter of whatever thriller he would send to his baggy eyed editor. On Eddie’s key holder, there is the spare copy to Bill’s place. It had been that way since they were kids in a hick Maine town. When he was 12, Eddie was given a spare to the Denbrough house,  _ “It was G-Georgie’s,” Bill had said. The loss of his ill younger brother still filled his eyes. Eddie had nodded and hugged him. It was all he needed to say.  _ Now Eddie comes over to make sure Bill sleeps, pulling him away from his keyboard to quiet his tapping fingers and his shouting brain. 

He knocks first when he comes to Bill’s door. He hears a faint mumble that gives him the all clear. Eddie jams the key in the door and walks into the dark and musty apartment where his favorite gremlin author resides. And of course, Bill is hunched over at his desk in the living room. Eddie sighs. 

“When was the last time you were outside, Big Bill?” 

He doesn’t look up from his computer, “Just trying to get the d-dialogue right, Ed.” His voice cracks from lack of use and his long gone childhood stutter rears its’ head.  _ It’s worse than he thought.  _

“Alright, get up man,” he pulls Bill from under his arms. His lanky limbs slip in Eddie’s arms like jelly. He slides back down the chair, half in Eddie’s grasp, it would’ve been an awkward position for anyone else but Bill and Eddie have done this dance too many times to count.  “C’mon, Bill.” 

“W-wait, just-“

“No, you need to move man.” 

“Just a-“ the keyboard clicks once more, “period. Okay.” And he lets Eddie pull him up. 

“Stretch your legs, weirdo, I’m going to get you some orange juice.” He quickly finds the bottle in the fridge and a cup from the dishwasher that probably hadn’t been unloaded in days. When he hands him the glass, he notices his hands are still shaking. 

“Alright there Ed?” Bill’s concern has been looming over them since they were young too,  _ ironic isn’t that.  _

“Yeah, alright. Just stuff with Myra, but that’s not new.” Bill gives him the puzzled, somewhat irritated look he always does when she’s mentioned. Myra didn’t like Bill, the feeling was mutual to say the least. 

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s totally normal to fight.” 

He nods, “I know Eddie.” 

“Well then stop doing that. I wouldn’t say your string of tinder hookups in rapid succession followed by no human contact for three months is exactly grounds for lending relationship advice.” 

He sees Bill open his mouth and close it again, like he wants to reach out a hand, but Eddie is gone then. 

It’s the same conversation they’ve had a million times. It dies quickly. 

“Want to get something to eat?” Bill asks, “there’s a new burrito place a block from here. We can go get a drink too.”

Eddie’s memory of a curly haired photographer pops into the foreground of his mind. He’d forgotten the invitation in the day’s chaos. 

“Yeah, I’ve got a bar for us to check out.” 

-

Bill finishes his burrito on the walk. Eddie had every intention of getting one, but ever since the image of his odd photographer resurfaced his mind, his stomach wasn’t agreeing with itself. 

They walked the short stroll to the address Richie had given him over text. The neon letters on the brick read “Red’s.”

“This it?” Bill asks, wiping guacamole from his lip. 

“Yes,” He swallows. 

“Alright what are we waiting for then?”  He feels his eyes on him, but still takes a breath before answering, 

“N-nothing. Let’s go.”

The inside of the bar is flooded with patrons. People having drinks at the polished wooden bar with vintage looking stools, People on the moderately sized dance floor that had been expanded by a few tables being pushed against the wall. Modern dance music is playing, but not too loudly and the lights are a soft yellow dim. Bill and Eddie have to push through a few lingering patrons to get to the bar, where the bartender promptly asks for Eddie’s ID. He had it at the ready, as a man of 27 who looks like a boy of 20 always does at bars. The bartender, a freckled woman with short red locks, probably not any older than them, examines the card. 

“ _ Oh,”  _ she says _ , “ _ Eddie? You’re Richie’s friend _?”  _

Eddie can feel Bill’s eyes on him again, “Well, we aren’t really-“

“Aye Richie!” The woman yells over her shoulder. 

“What’s up, ginger beer?” A distant voice calls.  _ Nickname guy, _ he remembers.

“You’ve got some guests up here!” 

“Hi,” she holds out her hand, “I’m Bev.” 

Eddie recognizes the name from one of Richie’s stories. He can’t remember the nature of their relationship and that fact gives his stomach another uncalled for twist. 

He takes it hesitantly. “Nice to meet you, this is Bill.” Bill removes his hand from his pocket, he has that look on his face like he’s shocked he’s being acknowledged, like he is only there to observe. “Hi,” he says. Before Bev can get another word out a man from behind the counter addresses her,

“Hey Bev can we get a-“ he stops dead in his tracks, “ _ Bill _ ?” 

Bill looks up at the stranger, “ _ Ben _ ?”

“Oh my god! Bill! How have you been man?” The man,  _ Ben, _ shakes with Bill from over the bar. 

“Good!” For an author, Bill sure does have trouble finding the words to greet someone. “You?” 

“Great! This is my bar!” The woman beside him let out a cough, “ _ Our _ bar! Bev and I are engaged.” 

“That’s great!” Bill answers like he’s waiting to hear the rest of a story. “So what’s up with you?”

“I’m an author,” he says slyly. 

“All those creative writing classes huh? And who’s this?” He gestures towards Eddie. 

“Oh this is Eddie, my childhood friend. Eddie this is Ben from college.” Eddie and Bill had been friends since they were young, but Bill had gone to New York for college while Eddie was stuck at U Maine, as per his mother’s wishes. When she died, Eddie moved to the city and stayed with Bill for the first few months. Eddie still didn’t like that he and Bill were ever missing from each other’s lives. They didn’t talk about that time often. 

“Nice to meet you, Eddie,” their hands shake as Eddie smiles weakly. 

“This is Richie’s fella,” Bev points to him again. Before Eddie can say anything, Ben blurts, “Oh! You know Richie? I’ll go ahead and apologize for him in advance.” 

“My ears are ringing!” That voice, loud and impossible to ignore booms as Richie Tozier comes barreling from out of the back and swings his legs over the bar. His feet hit the ground and without missing a beat,

“Hiya Eds,” he looms over Eddie, finding his eyes like he’s the only person in the room. “H-hi,” Eddie let out. 

“Glad you could make it,” his eyes are big and lively behind his glasses and they crinkle as he smiles, “Bar wench! Fetch this man a drink!”

“Richie I will slap you,” the red haired woman says.

“I was talking to Ben, but fair enough.” Ben rolls his eyes with a smile, “So, what’ll it be boys?” 

“Just a beer,” Eddie says. 

“Oh c’mon Eds, have some fun. Two Bevs please.” 

“What’s that?” He asks, somewhat nervous. 

“You’ll see,” Richie winks and turns to introduce himself to Bill. Bev leans over towards him, “It’s a cherry rum and coke. He’s just trying to impress you,” she says lightly. 

“Why would he want to do that?” Eddie asks with red cheeks. Bev giggles. 

Bill and Ben are caught up in catching up and Eddie finds himself leaning on the bar trying to understand what they’re talking about exactly. 

“C’mon,” there’s a tug on his arm. He finds Richie at the end of it. 

“Let’s dance.” 

“I don’t really-“ 

“Oh don’t hit me with that I don’t dance shit. You’re probably a little firecracker out there. C’mon just one song while these bozos talk their nerd stuff. Gotta practice for the big day right?” 

He felt his stomach drop at the mention. It must’ve been noticeable, 

The taller man’s eyes find his. “Hey, you alright?” 

He swallows, “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

The dance floor is a nice size, it’s certainly not a club. Eddie is aware of that in how well he can see Richie Tozier flail his limbs in attempt to coordinate with the music. His hair, a seemingly sentient creature of its own, bounces with him as he jumps into the center of the floor, Eddie, ghost like, trailing behind him. 

“When’s the last time you let loose?” He asks, voice absent of any doubt.

Eddie doesn’t even remember, probably college if he was honest with himself. 

Like Richie was calling upon the gods, the opening notes to  _ footloose _ start to play over the speakers and there are cheers of drunken patrons and 80s fans alike. 

“Probably when this song came out,” Eddie laughs. 

“Jesus-“ Richie starts, “we better tear it up while we can, spaghetti.” 

It sits with Eddie how strange all of this was, he’d met this man less then 48 hours ago and the guy spoke to him as though they’d been old friends.

“You are really weird,” he says, with no maliciousness in his voice. 

“Charming, isn’t it?” He grabs Eddie by the arm again and spins him around. Eddie can’t help but laugh as their shoes scuff the dance floor. 

-

Richie’s energy is contagious and halfway through the third song, Eddie is lost in the music like he was when he was a kid. In his bedroom, headphones blaring with the door shut and feet moving intensely and naturally. He had forgotten how good it felt to dance. He didn’t know if he ever remembered feeling so relaxed with someone he just met. He meets  Richie’s eyes every so often, exchanging silent glances as they jump about. Eddie thinks he may see bits of stardust if he looks into the their blue any longer. Richie begins to say, 

“You know you have a model’s-“ 

_ And then his phone rings.  _

He doesn’t hear it but he feels the buzz in his left front pocket. 

_ Myra.  _

He weaves his way out of the crowd and out the door, forgetting Bill, forgetting the music, forgetting Richie. Only focused on the sweat forming in his palms. 

He is trying to find his breath in the night air as his phone continues to ring. All of the things he had said flow back to him like poison in his veins. The back door flies open. 

“Hey what happened? My moves intimidate you?” It’s the last peron’s voice he wants to hear at the moment. 

The phone stops vibrating in his hands, but his hands don’t stop shaking as  he lets it slip on to the ground. 

“Whoa!” Richie swoops it up from the ground and examines it, “You’re a lucky son of a bitch that didn’t crack.” He places it back in Eddie’s hand. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Fine, just needed some air that’s all.” He can hear his own lie and cringes at the sound. 

Richie pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights one. 

“You smoke?”

He puffs, 

“Like a damn chimney. Can’t seem to quit, gives me something to do with my hands.”

“Those things can kill you, you know that right?” 

Richie looks at him skeptically, “You don’t have a vice, Eds?” 

Eddie scoffs, “Not a lethal one.”

“What makes you so sure?” Eddie doesn’t know what to say to that. But his companion never seemed to let a silent moment pass. 

“I was trying to tell you back there, you’ve got a model’s smile.”

“Really?” 

Richie nods, “Marty’s lucky.” 

Eddie wondered how he’d known that nickname before he realized what Richie was implying, 

“It’s Myra-“  

“Right,” But Eddie somehow doubts that was a mistake.  “Let me see your palms.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“What you never did that in middle school? They tell you if you’ll get married and or divorced.” 

“I’m getting married.”

“That we know of yet. C’mon hand em over chief.”

Eddie reluctantly turns his hands over so they face Richie, who places a finger at the bottom of his palm. He looks down at them and starts to slowly run up the crease in Eddie’s hand. It sends an unwanted shock up his spine. Richie’s hands on his feel as though they’re on fire on Eddie’s skin.  

“Ah,” is all he says as his eyes fill with focus, “Uh huh.” His finger makes it to the end of Eddie’s left hand. 

“Other one,” he takes it and traces something light. 

“Married. But not for a while.”

 

“The wedding is in June,” he manages to squeak out.

“Palms say otherwise, you may need to reschedule my services.”

He takes another puff of his neglected cigarette and exhales away from Eddie. 

When he looks back, Eddie finds his eyes stuck on chapped, plump lips, slightly red. 

“Dance floor’s probably getting cold without us, wanna head back in?”

He bites his lip and nods.

 

As soon as they walk back in, Eddie finds Bill and pulls him away from his forever ongoing conversation with Ben. Bill is fairly drunk as Eddie has to hunch him over his shoulder and call them a cab to only go a few blocks. 

_ Damnit Bill. _

 

That night on Bill’s couch,  Eddie dreams of pale fingers and wakes up in a cold sweat. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ladies and gentlefolk, now is the time for your honest reviews of my writing bc I’m applying to creative writing programs so! Whatever your thoughts are pls tell me  
> Tumblr- coffeekaspbrak


	4. Bill Denbrough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill and Eddie have a fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick update! There will be another in the next two days (hold me to that y’all akskksjjjj)

Eddie is fading back into consciousness as a tapping coming from somewhere around him gets louder and louder.  _ Tap, tap, tap. Son of a bitch that’s loud.  _ His eyes fly open as he motions to sit up on Bill’s couch, where he fell asleep last night. He’s still wearing the same jeans and shirt he had been the night before. Grogginess sits on the skin underneath his eyes and in his achy limbs as he adjusts to his surroundings. His eyes settle on the tapping, coming from the desk, Bill at his keyboard once again. 

“Oh, c’mon,” he groans, palms over his eyes.

“Just waiting for you to g-get up,” he says, stopping his typing. He’s still a blurry image to Eddie, but his hands are up at his head, as he stands. He shoves them in his pockets as he walks over to the couch, “How we doing, champ?”

“I should be asking you that,” Eddie says burying his face in a pillow. “You’re the only person I know who can wake up without a hangover after drinking that much.” 

Bill shrugs, “it’s a gift, I guess.” 

 

Eddie sits up and pulls the blanket off his lap, “What time is it?”

“9:15,” he says checking his watch. 

“Shit,” Eddie checks his phone-  _ 7 new voicemails from Myra.  _ He runs his hand  over his face, “Fuck me.” 

“What’s wrong?” Bill is already strolling over to the kitchen. 

“Nothing,” Eddie sighs, standing. He follows him in, where no doubt Bill will make avocado toast on wheat bread or another somehow pretentious breakfast. 

Okay maybe it’s not so pretentious, maybe Eddie’s just irritable. 

He turns on the bright orange kettle with the paint chipping off for his tea. It’s the one Eddie bought him for Christmas a few years ago, 

_ The only thing worse than tea, is tea from the microwave,  _ the card had said.

“Can’t you make coffee for those of us that are human?” He says, elbows resting on the countertop, hunching over. 

Bill reaches up to open one of his creaky off white cabinets and pull out a box of K-cups. He tosses it to Eddie, who after catching it, mumbles in response. 

“The coffee machine’s in the bedroom,” Bill states nonchalantly, not looking up, like that’s the only place I should belong. 

He sighs in response, “Why?”

Bill shrugs, “Inspiration doesn’t care where you are when it strikes.” 

He lets out a “pft,” before leaving his phone on the counter and walking towards Bill’s bedroom. 

Eddie starts the machine, takes out the k-cup Bill left in with a disgusted noise, and pops his in. It’s filled with water which warms up for a minute, in which Eddie realizes he forgot to get a mug for his drink. 

“Forgot my-“

Bill is leaning on the counter, tea cup steaming with what appears to be Eddie’s phone pressed up to his ear. 

“ _ What the fuck? _ ” He walks faster towards him. Bill looks startled at first by the response but he places the phone back on the counter and presses something on it. The sounds of Myra’s yelling from one of her voicemails fills the room as Eddie cringes. “Why the hell are you messing with my phone?” He spits angrily, swiping it and pausing her message before anymore can play. 

“B-Because I woke up in the middle of the night to your phone ringing 15 times in succession. Because apparently your girlfriend can’t leave you alone for a single night.” Bill states, sounding just as angry as Eddie, his eyes narrowing. 

“She’s my fiancé,” Eddie spits back out of defensive instinct mostly. 

“Don’t remind me,” he rolls his eyes. 

Eddie can tell his face is scrunching up, “We had a fight last night, she was just 

worried.” 

Bill crosses his arms the way Eddie’s seen him do a million times, “A fight? About what?”

Eddie feels all the blood leave his face at the memory of last night’s argument with Myra, he shakes his head, eyes on the ground “It doesn’t matter.” 

“Eddie, you can’t keep up with this forever, man.” Bill has that certain pleading inflection in his voice that makes Eddie feel patronized and embarrassed. 

He feels the anger flow back, “With what, Bill?” 

“You can’t marry Myra, Eddie! I mean, Christ almighty man! She’s insane!” He shouts, hands up in the air. 

If Bill wants to fight, Eddie’s going for every defense, “Why do you care again, Bill? At least I have someone!” He’s yelling as he heads for the door. 

Bill shakes his head, following him “That’s the problem! You’ve always had to have someone, face it, Eddie. You know Myra is just like-“ 

Eddie throws a finger up to cut him off. 

“No, don’t you dare fucking say it!” He turns back and shouts in his face, “You can’t talk to me I’m just some stupid kid, Bill. I’m a grown man and I can do whatever I want with my life. Stop acting like you know better than me. You don’t! You’re not some sort of hero. Don’t tell me I fucking can’t handle myself.” 

Bill opens his mouth, “Eddie you know that’s not what I mean-“ 

“You aren’t responsible for me, Bill.” He pauses, waiting to say something he knows will sting, “I’m not your brother.” 

Bill’s eyes narrow again, clearly pissed but not saying anything. 

“And I don’t need to be saved. I’m not your little  _ fix it project with Mommy issues. _ You want me to independent, so bad, Bill?” He opens the door, “Then leave me the fuck alone,” and slams it before he can say another word.

-

Once again, Eddie lets his feet carry him several blocks without thinking about where he’s going. And that’s how he ends up at a small coffee shop that he remembered getting coffee at a few times. He steps inside and orders an iced latte and sips it at a small table with two chairs. 

 

His phone buzzed maybe a billion times from the walk to Bill’s to the coffee shop, but Eddie had ignored it in his fit. Now that he has the chance to look at it, he opens his messages. 

 

_ 27 new texts from Myra  _

 

He scrolls past her. 

 

_ 5 new texts from Bill.  _

 

Scrolls past him, before rolling his eyes and closing his phone again. 

Not a minute later, his phone buzzes once more. But it’s not from either of his incessant contacts. 

_ 1 new text message from: Richie (photographer) _

 

Eddie’s finger slides on his phone to open it. There’s one from last night that he hadn’t seen either, 

 

_ 3:34 am  _

_ Had a great time tonight. You really know how to show a guy a goo _ d  _ time spaghetti :)   _

Eddie goes a bit red despite himself. 

 

_ 10:00 am  _

_ Hey Eds, can I borrow you for an hour or so? My model for this shot dropped and I could really use your good looks _

Eddie deletes and retypes his answer at least three times. Until he says fuck it. He has nowhere else to go now and he’s sure as shit not going back to his apartment. 

_ Where are we meeting? _

 

He hits send and almost instantly the gray dots appear. 

 

_ Richie (photographer): I honestly didn’t think you’d say yes. My apartment. Can you be here in like 20 minutes?  _

 

Eddie types:  _ I can be there now, what’s your address?  _

 

Richie sends him his address and Eddie starts walking, it’s only a few blocks away and Eddie’s sure he can figure out where it is without google maps.

 

He gets to Richie’s and ignores the voice in the back of his head that tells him maybe it isn’t such a good idea to go over to a man you just met’s house. He knocks twice on the door and his ears focus in on what sounds like soft music playing. 

 

It’s another few seconds before a disgruntled looking Richie opens the door. His curls are everywhere, they seem to get bigger and more unruly every time Eddie sees him. His blue eyes are big behind his glasses, like usual but the ridiculous  blue sweater with a cat print on he’s wearing it brings them out. His face is red and he sounds slightly out of breath when he says, “Eds! C’mon in!” 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr- @coffeekaspbrak

**Author's Note:**

> leave me ur thoughts y’all. tumblr- @coffeekaspbrak


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